The Rock and the Hard Place
by StopTheWorldImGettingDizzy
Summary: full title: In Which the Rock and the Hard Place Become Indistinguishable. Snippets of WilsonCuddy and HouseCuddy. Follow up to episode 3x8, Whac a Mole. It's time to make a choice.


**Notes: **A follow-up of sorts to episode 3x8. After seeing how House treated Wilson and how Wilson reacted, I started thinking that maybe it wasn't so far-fetched for Wilson to be in the place that he's in in this fic. This was written several days ago but ffnet was being a sillyhead.

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**In Which the Rock and the Hard Place Become Indistinguishable**

Lisa looked up as her office door opened, just in time to see James lean against it until it bumped shut, then remain with his back resting on the smooth glass.

His words rushed out, as though they'd been waiting to be voiced for hours, maybe days. "I'm considering testifying against House."

They both paused, letting his quiet statement diffuse through the room until the office was filled with it. It seemed to ionize the air, adding an almost metallic bite to their inhales.

When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and devoid of emotion. "Oh." Then, "I don't know what to say to that."

She hadn't asked for explanations or excuses, but the pressure to give them was bearing down on him like a twenty-ton slab. "I can't do it anymore. I can't- I thought I could get through to him, I _prided _myself- on being one of the ones who could reach him, even if he denied it, even if he pretended he didn't care, but my god, he's so far gone I don't even know if he's on the same _plane_ anymore, or what he's thinking, I- he's taking everything out of me, everything, okay, and I don't have anything left, Lisa! This is it, I'm done, I can't give to him anymore, I need to think about _me_-" he pounded his palm into his chest- "my life, my _career_. I'm a doctor; first and foremost, I'm a physician. What the hell am I supposed to do? Risk my entire life to cover his ass, and he doesn't give me one shred of gratitude or- _recognition_, or…." He trailed off, hyperventilating, huffing erratic breaths of air through his fingers, which were splayed across his face.

She got up and came around the side of her desk. She curled her fingers through the back of one of the chairs and with one quick, dexterous movement of her wrist, swiveled it about to face him. He stumbled forward and bent his knees against the edge, his hands coming down to clutch the polished wooden back. She stood behind the chair, opposite him, and put her hands on his shoulders, silently supporting him.

"Okay."

He looked up. "Okay? Just- okay?"

"I can't ask you to do more for him than you're doing. Most people wouldn't have done as much as you've already done. You're an incredible man and you're allowed to run out of rope. _Okay._"

His browns searched her blues, scanning for some clue, some way out that he hadn't noticed before, hidden in the depths of her eyes. Then he saw it.

"You're going to defend him."

"I have to."

"You-"

"I want to. I have to. I think it's the same thing in this case."

He didn't look convinced. "Maybe."

Impulsively, she rolled forward onto her tiptoes and stretched her spine and kissed him on the lips, holding for one, two, and then rolling back down. She didn't look away from him. "I shouldn't have done that."

A few muscles twitched in his face before he replied, "Maybe."

"Look, James, this is going to hit us all. It already has, especially you. We all have to deal with it in the best way we can. Okay? If there's a right answer here, I'm failing to see it. So it comes down to instincts, and interests, and what comes out on top. For you, that can be testifying against him, and maybe… that's what you have to do. Maybe. For me…."

"Is this about you and him?" The way he said it, treating the two subjects as one, made his meaning just clear enough that she could lightly side-step it.

"This is about me. And it's about him. And in a way, it's about you." She lifted her hands from his shoulders and brought them to cover his on the back of the chair, pushing slightly forward and forcing him to straighten and stand his full height.

His nostrils flared with the breath he drew, a thick stream of oxygen that flowed through his veins, sharpening his senses and dizzying his mind simultaneously. "Lisa, I just want to be out of this."

"I do, too."

"I think there must be a right answer. But that answer isn't the same for all of us. I think I understand your right answer, and maybe even mine. But what's the right answer for Greg House?"

For the first time in the course of their conversation, she answered with perfect certainty: "There isn't one."

He sighed. "Look, do you want to come with me tonight? Just- come with me, and do… whatever?"

Again for the first time, her eyelashes fluttered down to shield her from his questions.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I'm going to him."

"Is he expecting you?"

"Yes."

"Are you…?"

"Yes."

"Before tonight?"

"Twice."

"Okay."

She raised her eyes to look him in the face again. "Are you angry?"

"Maybe."

"Are you jealous?" Her voice stopped there, but her mind finished the thought, _of him because he has me, or of me because he's letting me in?_

"I'm concerned."

"For me or for him?"

"Both."

"That we'll get hurt?" There was a tinge of something in her voice running underneath the truth-seeking; a touch of sarcasm or irony in the question. _We're already hurt_, it seemed to say, or maybe _Concerned that you'll get hurt?_

"That you'll… tip the balance. The situation's complicated enough; this can only make it more dangerous for all of us."

"James, it's too late for that. You know it's too late. The balance was tipped before Tritter even knew who House was. What's happening between us, it's irrelevant at this point. You must know that, right?"

"I don't know what I know."

Her exhale swished from her nose, almost a snort. "Dramatic."

"This _is_ dramatic, Lisa. This is our own goddamned melodrama. This character Tritter isn't playing. Actually, you know what? He is. He's playing all right, he's playing his own sick, stubborn game, and he's gone too far to back off now, which means either he goes down or we do. No matter which side I testify for, I'm making a terrific gamble."

"Good luck, then." Dry. Humorless.

"Stop it."

"I think you've decided."

"You're judging me."

"I'm not."

"You're blaming me, then! I see it; you think I'm a traitorous…!" He broke off, taking a moment to focus his concentration on reigning in his emotions. "Whatever I do, whatever I pick, it's wrong, isn't it? I testify for him and we lose- they find out I'm lying- it's death for me, but it's also another hit for this hospital. And if I testify against him, I've abandoned us. Isn't that right? We lose, I've helped bring that about; we win, I've wrecked myself, jumped ship to save my own hide."

She didn't blink. She tightened her lips in what might have been a sad smile had not every molecule of her body been tensely on edge. "It sounds like you're the one blaming yourself, James."

His shoulders slumped, and his knees hit the chair again. "Yeah."

"Yeah." She softened, almost imperceptibly, but he felt the change. Gently, she bent her head to meet his eyes, forcing him to look at her. "I care about you. Sometimes I think…." She sighed and shook her head. "Look, you do what you want to- what you have to. I will never reproach you for that. This is an impossible situation, and like I said, you've already stuck it out through a lot."

"You're still sticking it out, though."

"I am."

"But you won't be angry?"

"No."

"You won't blame me?"

"No."

He paused. "Will you be disappointed?" She opened her mouth, but he pressed further. "A little bit?"

She closed her mouth. She reached behind her without turning her head to slide her jacket off the back of her chair. She wrapped her slender hand around his forearm and led him alongside her to the door. This time the sad smile came through, and as she gently pushed him out in front of her before shutting the light and leaving, she thought she whispered to him, but possibly it was only inside her head: _Maybe._

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